


In Chaos There Is Silence (And In Silence There Is Chaos)

by Enting



Category: Fake News RPF, Late Night Host RPF, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (TV)
Genre: Angst, Current Events, Fluff, M/M, Nuclear Bombs, problematic heads of state, this is pretty angsty so be prepared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enting/pseuds/Enting
Summary: When a nuclear war suddenly becomes reality, the late night hosts and their families have to go into hiding. Drama ensues.





	1. The Beginning

-August 2017-

_[...] "The turmoil began with a march Friday night and escalated Saturday morning as hundreds of white nationalists gathered. Waving Confederate flags, chanting Nazi-era slogans, wearing helmets and carrying shields, they converged on a statue of Robert E. Lee in the city’s Emancipation Park and began chanting phrases like “You will not replace us,” and “Jew will not replace us.”_

Jon stared wide-eyed at the New York Times article on the oak-wooden table in front of him. "Jew will not replace us? Seriously?"

Stephen turned off the coffee machine and came closer. From behind Jon's shoulder he read where Jon pointed.

"You'd think that after all these years people would've found a different target." Rubbing Jon's back, he shook his head in disbelief. If this made him feel terrible already, he almost didn't dare to think about how it made Jon feel.

"Do you ever wish you weren't Jewish?" _do you ever wish you weren't being made fun of all the time, being hated, murdered? Do you ever wish you weren't yourself?_  
  
Jon looked up and tilted his head to look in his friend's worrying but curious eyes. He sighed and with a gesture of his hand, the newspaper was flying in the general direction of the waste bin.

"No."  
That was it. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say more, but he refrained before anything else could be uttered. He could've made a joke about how being Jewish allowed him - in a strangely circular way - to make jokes about Jewish people. Hell, he could've joked about the jewfro he had in college. But he didn't. Not today. Too much had happened. In a sudden upwelling of emotions, he grabbed Stephen's hand and turned his chair to face the younger man.

"Someone died today, Stephen. At the protests. Killed because she believed in equality."

"I know."

"I just..." Jon scoffed, "they just have no conscience, do they?"

Stephen softly squeezed Jon's hand. Somehow, in a way, it felt like 9/11 all over again. That awful, awful melting pot of anger, sadness, pride, emptiness, disappointment, love, fear, powerlessness...

"You should talk about it. On your show on Monday."

"Of course."

And suddenly there was a spark of hope, that maybe, just maybe he could do something to help end this violence. But in the end, he knew, it was all an illusion. He could make a joke or two, voice his concerns, but it would never hold up against seas of protesters or an executive order. In the end, it would have a cathartic effect at most, and mainly for himself.  
  
Well, and for Jon. Because Jon was always there when the worst happened. Holding his hand as he cried, making him laugh when he thought he couldn't anymore. But deep inside, Stephen knew that even though Jon always seemed to be able to reassure him, his friend wasn't so sure about anything himself. Jon needed Stephen as much as Stephen needed Jon.

So Stephen leaned forward and placed a kiss on Jon's forehead.

"I'm glad you're with me, Jon. Here at the end of all things."

Jon smiled at his gentle touch and his sweet words, that seemed all too familiar to anyone having spent a considerable amount of time with Stephen. "Is this the point where you leap off into a full quotation of the Lord Of The Rings? Because if so, I'm just gonna quietly sneak out the back door."

"Ah, you've revealed your sinister plans to me! Now I can block your way and make you listen to passages about the Ents!" Stephen spread his arms pretending to form a blockade. When Jon started giggling - _as he always did, the bastard_  - he wrapped his arms around his silver-haired friend and held him close.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere, buddy."

\---

Two days later, on Monday, Stephen was finishing up his tie, pulling it a little bit tighter than usual. He had to stay sharp. Today he'd start with a serious bit about Charlottesville, before all the jokes.

So much had happened this week. Pretty much everything that he'd been afraid of when Donald Trump was first elected had become a reality. First threats of nuclear war, now the uprising of Nazis. Where would it stop?

He could see the reflection of CNN in the mirror. He'd muted the TV to avoid the storm of news that would now regularly pass through its frames, but he'd kept the screen on anyway out of a fear of missing anything important.

_'Tensions increase between the US and North Korea'_

It was pretty clear that Stephen didn't trust the leaders of both these countries enough to even buy him a drink, let alone handle nuclear weapons. He found himself in a state of a sort of numb fear. _I_ _t's probably all going to work out anyway and nothing bad is going to happen in the end. In a few years time, everything is going to be fine._

A chill went through his spine and he shivered.

\---

It was December 2017. There was no nuclear war (although North Korea had fired some test missiles these past few months) and the Nazis seemed to have calmed down a little after their protests were met by thousands of counter-protesters. Everything seemed fine.

"Hey Jon, pass me some of those pancakes."

"For the last time Stephen, they're called latkes."

Stephen smiled. When Jon had invited him to come and celebrate Hanukkah with him and his family, he'd said yes immediately. After Jon had had to put up with his frequent Bible quotes he felt like he should pay some respect to his friend's religion, too.

The candles brought a mellow and warm glow to the Stewarts' living room. Nathan and Maggie had gone to bed, seeing as it was already past midnight. Stephen had agreed to stay over for the night and so far he hadn't regretted his decision one second.

The fried food with names he couldn't even dare to pronounce correctly, along with the happiness and warmth that just seemed to beam out of everything and everyone in the room made him feel like the happiest and luckiest man in the world. He suddenly felt a strong urge to thank God, but seeing as he thought it inappropriate during a Jewish celebration, he repressed the feeling for now and shifted closer to Jon to take the plate of latkes that was being handed to him.

Everything appeared perfect.

\---

Stephen was brutally woken up by the Star Wars soundtrack. It took him a moment to realise the guest room he was staying in wasn't being invaded by Stormtroopers, but his wife was calling.

"Hey, honey. Everything alright?"

He was scared by the urgent tone of her voice when she answered.

"Haven't you heard? Stephen, you have to get underground NOW."

He quickly sat up, confused and still half asleep. "What? What happened?"

"North Korea has launched a surprise missile. It's too advanced for the US to take down. It's projected to hit New York in about twenty minutes. Just get underground Stephen, quickly!"

"Fuck." Did Jon know yet? Of course not, they'd had the TV switched off the entire night, and he vaguely remembered something about a 'no phone policy' during holiday celebrations. Clumsily, he grabbed his glasses and climbed out of bed. When he spoke again, his voice trembled.

"Are you and the kids safe?"

"Yes, we're standing in line for a shelter right now. It looks like we're almost in, and then I won't be able to call you anymore. I couldn't call you earlier either because all the phone lines are flooding with calls."

Stephen took a deep breath. "Is there still time for us to go to a shelter?"

A pause on the other side. Stephen closed his eyes and silently prayed. For what, he wasn't exactly sure. In the worst scenario, for his life and that of his friends and family. He had a strong feeling this _was_  the worst scenario. Then he heard Evie's voice again.

"Stephen, everything is full. We're among the last ones getting in, everyone behind us is being sent away. If you're not at a shelter right now, there's no way you can still get in."

Stephen's next breath was sharp and painful. Stumbling forward, he managed to open the door. A shiver went through his body as the cold air from the hallway penetrated his pyjama's.

"I'm going to wake Jon and Tracey up right now and we're going to get underground as quickly as possible. You may have saved our lives here, Evie."

"Yes, and you better not forget about it. Take care, okay? Make sure you've got enough supplies and- hold on."

Stephen blinked, his eyes still trying to adjust to the dark of the hallway. He could make out the stairs thanks to the soft glow of the candles that were still coming from downstairs. Then Evie's voice again.

"I've got to go now, honey. I love you."

"I-" Before Stephen had a chance to return his love, the other side of the line was replaced by noise. No connection anymore. They must've entered the shelter.

Silently cursing, Stephen found his way to Jon and Tracey's bedroom. With every step, he could feel himself panicking more and more. It reminded him too much of the days when he had regular panic attacks. It had felt then like the world was going to end, but somewhere deep inside he'd always known it was all in his mind. This time that was most definitely not the case. _Fuck_.  
"

As he laid his hand on the door handle, it was like he couldn't control his own body anymore. His movements weren't his - his limbs were guided by unconscious parts of his brain. He saw the world around him fade to black -  _was he fainting? -_  and the beats of his heart became gongs and he could feel the cold sweat on his face, his hands, everywhere, and suddenly he was on the ground and he couldn't see and he couldn't feel and he couldn't hear, and then there were people, voices, and he was being held by arms that felt warm and firm, and something wet was being used to wipe his face with, and as he slowly entered the conscious world again he could hear whispers telling him it was okay and everything was going to be alright. And for a moment, he believed them.

Then he shot up and tried to form words through irregular breaths, but he was urged down again by those same warm and firm hands and those lips telling him it was okay.

"Shhh... Stephen, we know. Just keep breathing. It's gonna be fine."

"But-"

"You're safe. Here, have some water, it'll be good for you."

The hands disappeared for a moment and Stephen immediately felt his heart accelerate again. He attempted to look around, but it was half-dark and his glasses were gone. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. A lonely tear in the corner of his eye made its way to his lips, and it was like the salt symbolized the immense fear that had overcome him just now.

Then the hands were back again, one carefully supporting his head as the other placed a plastic cup at his lips. He drank gratefully, already feeling better.

"Thank you."

Fingers ran gently through his hair. Now that Stephen had a better focus, his assumptions were confirmed that his caregiver was - indeed - Jon.

Instead of replying, Jon leaned forward to give Stephen a tender kiss on his cheek. Stephen felt a warm chill flow through his body and smiled.

"Where am I?"

"In the cellar. It's not a shelter, but it's the safest we could think of." Jon brought the cup to Stephen's lips once again. This time Stephen found the strength to take it over.

"What happened?"

Jon took the cup after Stephen finished drinking from it and placed it in a sort of shiny metal rack behind him.

"Your fall woke us up. I opened the door to see what was going on and there you were, on the floor, looking all scary." Jon paused for a moment, caringly tracing his friend's cheekbones with his fingers. "Seriously though, you really had me scared there. You won't believe how glad I am you're awake now."

"He hasn't left your side for even a second since we got here." That was Tracey's voice, Stephen recognised. He smiled and leaned into Jon's hand.

"That's sweet."

Although Stephen couldn't see it in this half-dark, he was fairly sure Jon was blushing. It gave him a profound feeling of joy.

"So, what happened next?"

Jon cleared his throat before answering.

"As I was taking care of you, Tracey checked her phone." He looked up, in his wife's direction, Stephen guessed. From there, Tracey took over.

"It was pretty much blowing up," she said. _pardon the pun,_  Stephen thought.

"Immediately after we found out what was going on, we woke the kids up and ran down to the cellar, taking as much with us as we could," Tracey continued.

Stephen frowned. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard any children's voices. "Where are Nathan and Maggie?"

A pause. Jon and Tracey shared a look that Stephen couldn't quite place.

"One of our neighbours has a cellar as well. It's deeper and bigger than this one. We... decided that the children would be safer there. There wasn't enough place for us, so we stayed here."

"Oh." Stephen could hear Jon's voice shaking and decided not to follow up for now. Instead, he softly squeezed his hand.

"They're safer than we are, so as long as nothing happens to us we know they're okay," Tracey said.

_As far as the circumstances can allow someone to be 'okay'._  Stephen thought bitterly. Suddenly he became aware of how much he missed Evie, and Peter and John and Maddie. When he breathed in, the cold air got stuck in his throat. As he tried to swallow he could feel his eyes burning. A quiet sob escaped him.

And immediately Jon's warm and firm arms were back again, holding him close.


	2. Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their time underground continues, Jon, Stephen and Tracey will have to manage with what they have.  
> Note: I can't help writing fluff. For some reason there has to be fluff somewhere in every fanfic I write. So here you go.

  
Jon remembered one of the first times he'd realised Stephen wasn't just another co-worker.

In 2001, Stephen had been able to get tickets to a special sneak preview of The Fellowship Of The Ring. _He'd been so excited all week,_  Jon thought. He smiled at the memory.

Then, due to unforeseen circumstances, that night's guest on the show, Al Sharpton, hadn't shown up. They desperately needed someone to fill in for Sharpton, and quick. Stephen's name immediately popped up in Jon's head. _When in doubt, go to Stephen. He'd always come up with something good._  It had been sound advice in the past and he felt certain it would be today as well.

When Stephen showed up, slightly out of breath and his makeup done hastily, Jon felt a wave of guilt pass through his body. Seeing Stephen all excited and hyped that week had given him a genuine sense of happiness, and now he felt like he was standing in the way.

But Stephen's smile had been warm and reassuring, telling him it was okay and he needn't feel guilty. It was in that moment that Jon had realised that Stephen would always be there for him. And he'd decided that he would always be there for Stephen, no matter what.

Little could he have known then, of course, that it would come to this. Together in a dark and freezing cellar, hiding from radioactive rain. Jon nearly snickered at the absurdity.

Beside him, Stephen was sleeping. On his other side was Tracey, also asleep. He could feel their warmth radiating towards him. Jon didn't consider himself a particularly religious person, but nevertheless, he found himself describing the situation and himself as blessed. He was blessed to have these two amazing and wonderful people in his life, and blessed to have to go through this with them, and not anyone else.

He'd never been a good sleeper himself. Normally he just stared at the blackness above him, that seemed to form a pixelated dark mass when he looked at it for too long.

Jon had to admit, Kim Jong Un had chosen a perfect moment to drop a nuclear bomb. Thousands, _millions_ , of people, in December, with no electricity. As he tried to get a bit more blanket, he started regretting not bringing every single blanket he'd been able to find upstairs when he had the chance.

He thought about the warmth of the candles from that night. The laughter ringing through the air. That electric feeling, curling up on the couch with the people he loved most in the entire world.

Hannukah was supposed to be a festival of lights, and warmth. It was so ironic he couldn't help laughing a bit. Beside him, Stephen shifted slightly in his sleep and unconsciously cuddled up against him. Maybe this kind of warmth would do just fine, Jon thought.

\---

There was no 'day' or 'night' anymore. No 'tomorrow' or 'yesterday'. Just... nothing. Like time waves were passing through this particular cellar, expanding and contracting time. Of course, Stephen thought, time as he knew it was just a man-made concept, a social construct. And if there was anything he'd learned from his time underground so far, it was that the rules that mankind created did not apply here. It wouldn't be long before Stephen even started to doubt his own existence.

As Stephen brought his hands to his head for the millionth time, he realised he had no idea if they'd been in here an hour or a day. He knew he'd slept because just now he'd woken up with Jon's arms wrapped around him and no recollection of how they got there.

Now Jon was pacing around the room, occasionally talking with Tracey. Stephen could hear his footsteps and his greasy voice.

His head was throbbing. He must've hit something when he fell. He tried to carefully massage the places where it hurt, but it was no use.

He heard Jon's footsteps becoming louder and opened his eyes. Jon sat down on the mattress next to him.

"You okay?" He asked softly.

Stephen grunted. "Bored. And my head hurts."

"Still?" A hint of alarm entered Jon's voice. Stephen nodded.

Jon rubbed his shoulder, careful not to hurt him, and sighed. "It's gonna be fine, Stephen. Hey, maybe this will help!" Jon smiled and pulled something from behind his back.

"What's that?" Stephen asked curiously.

"A book," Jon said mysteriously. Clearing his throat, he opened it on the first page. He started reading out loud.

"When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton," Jon read.

"You brought The Lord Of The Rings!" Stephen exclaimed.

Jon laughed. "Couldn't leave it behind. Not with you here."

"Oh Jon," Stephen grinned, "what would I ever do without you?"

\---

Even with the newfound pleasure of Stephen's favourite book, the hours went by ever so slowly. The deep sighs became more and more frequent, as did the shivers. After a while, they'd made up a routine to keep warm and pass the time.

Upon waking up, they'd eat and drink a small amount from their limited supplies. Knowing they'd have to stay underground for at least two weeks, Jon and Tracey had brought everything they could carry. It should be enough for a while but nevertheless, they'd decided to spare anything they could spare.

Next, they would do a workout. This was generally the most fun part of the day because each of them got to choose which exercise to do next. Stephen, with his improv background, would make them imitate frogs or other strange-moving beings.

"Do a drunk guy trying to ride a bike," he'd say. Or "how about Mike Pence who can't find his pens?"

More often than not they would end up on the floor, laughing their heads off. It was a sweet remedy for their fear. It was like Stephen used to say: "You can't laugh and be afraid at the same time."  
Accordingly, they would do anything to make each other laugh.

Later, when they were tired, they'd cuddle up together. It was always Jon in the middle, between Tracey and Stephen. And Stephen would read from The Lord Of The Rings, his lively voice echoing against the stone walls. As the last tallow from the candles melted, it was almost as if it were that Hanukkah night again, that already seemed so long ago.

\---

"Jon?"

Jon blinked at the unexpected voice in the dark.

"Stephen? I thought you were asleep."

"I can't." A pause. "It's my head. It still hurts."

Jon turned to face his friend. His voice carried a worried undertone when he spoke.

"We really need to get you to a doctor as soon as we get out of here." He sighed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well... I thought maybe if it doesn't disturb Trace too much... you could read to me?" While Stephen's voice was broken in exhaustion, it sounded hopeful.

"Of course," Jon answered. He picked up the book from the floor next to the mattress while Stephen moved closer to him. His head fit perfectly in the space of Jon's shoulder as Jon wrapped his arm around him.

Careful not to wake Tracey, Jon started reading softly from the chapter Stephen asked for. It was the one where the people from Rohan were driven deep into Helm's deep by Saruman's army, with no apparent help on their side and no visible future.

It was a feeling that had slowly crept inside their skulls ever since day one of hiding. On the outside, they'd always stayed positive - but there was no denying that the feeling of hopelessness had a steep slope to it. In between all the cosiness and comfort, there was a growing fear that they might never see the light of day again.


	3. Dear Jon

  
For Tracey, the situation could have come straight from a nightmare. She loved the outdoors with a passion - it gave her a sense of freedom that she couldn't find anywhere else. This cellar that she was now forced to live in was quite the opposite, and not knowing for how long they would need to stay there made it even worse.

She shivered in the cold of the night. It was the insomniacs' curse to feel the dark air running through your bones in the middle of the night. It was something she loved about her and Jon - they were both hopeless at sleeping. She glanced at the shadow beside her that she knew was her husband. He was asleep now, entangled in an unconscious embrace with his best friend. She sighed and closed her eyes again.

She knew there was an unspoken attraction between the two that transcended the boundaries of friendship. It was a vague sexual attraction, but even more so something much deeper, like they were an old, married couple who never fell out of love. She couldn't tell if they had even realised it, even after all this time. It wasn't new, it had been there from the moment they first met - a sort of slumbering fog in the background, waiting to come out.

She remembered one time specifically, a few years ago. Stephen was on tv, and she and Jon were watching. She loved how his facial expressions changed slightly with every sentence Stephen spoke, as if Jon was the one standing there, speaking those sentences. She loved his proud look whenever Stephen made the audience laugh.

She'd kissed him then, and his response had been full of energy. Before long, they were undressed and he was on top of her. His eyes were closed, and Stephen's voice still sounded from the tv. As he came, he let out a soft whisper. When she asked what he said, he'd just blushed. But Tracey was fairly sure he'd called out Stephen's name. She hadn't thought much of it then. She'd just laughed it off as if it were nothing. But things were different now. Sometimes she felt like the relationship she had with Jon was the same as the relationship Jon had with Stephen.

However right now, there was one thing Tracey knew for certain, and that was that she wanted to get out of this place. She needed space for herself, for her thoughts. It was like a huge pressure was weighing down on her, and with it came feelings of fear, anger, and depression. She felt like she was going crazy, despite all their efforts to make life bearable. No, she had to leave. It seemed like anything would be better than staying in this hellhole for even just another hour.

She looked at Jon beside her and saw that he'd woken up. Immediately a lump appeared in her throat. She loved this man with every bit of her heart, and she knew he loved her the same way. Going outside would be dangerous, she knew. If she died, she would leave behind a family.  
But pure despair clouded her mind. She finally understood what some people said; that the depressed are the best poets, the best philosophers. She couldn't bear to still think about simple, trivial things anymore. It was like her brain had pushed a button that brought her into some sort of tunnel vision where only thoughts of death and despair could exist. She was overridden by the same fate or tragedy as that of the suicidal: an overwhelming blinding darkness brought a thick fog over every light. And what was life still without that light, without love? All she could think about was how to escape this paralysing feeling growing inside her every minute of the day.

She must've stirred a bit, for Jon noticed she wasn't sleeping and turned to her. She swallowed as she tried to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Jon smiled. _How is he still able to do that?_  she thought. Still, she forced a smile, for him.

He leaned in and kissed her softly.

"I love you," he whispered.

A lonely tear rolled down from her eye.

"I love you, too."

\---

The next day the part of the mattress on Jon's left was empty.

Jon immediately shot up and scanned the room, panic in his eyes.

When he found the note on her pillow, he couldn't have been more devastated. Unable to calm down he started pacing the room, eventually sinking down to the cold floor, burying his face in his hands.

The sound of soft sobbing woke Stephen up from a deep sleep. At first confused as to where he was and what was going on, it took Stephen a few moments to find his glasses. When he finally saw where the sound was coming from, he crawled towards his friend as quickly as possible and embraced him, mumbling soothing words. He didn't realise yet why Jon was crying, but he soon felt tears well up in his own eyes too.

Jon looked up, his eyes red and swollen. He wanted to say something, but his voice broke.

"What's wrong?" Stephen had been too busy with Jon to notice something was off - the room appeared larger than before. Emptier? Yes, that was it. But why? _Ugh_ , it was too early and his head still hurt too much for his brain to function logically.

When Jon immediately started crying uncontrollably again, Stephen finally realised. _Tracey. Shit._

Jon held out a piece of paper that he'd been clutching to his chest this whole time. Stephen took it, his fingers softly brushing Jon's. Afraid of the content, he started reading. The writing was stained with tears that blurred the ink, but nevertheless it was still readable.

 

_Dear Jon,_

_If you read this I'll be gone. I had to - you know me well enough to know I can't live in a place like this._

_I'll do my best to make it to a habitable place or get rescued._

_I don't want this note to be the last thing you will have from me, but if it is, I want you to know that I love you so, so much. Being with you was the best decision I have ever made, and my years with you have been the happiest of my life._

_Please tell Maggie and Nathan that I love them, and the fact that I'm doing this doesn't change anything about that. It breaks my heart to leave you like this, and I am so sorry. I couldn't possibly explain it to you, and I hope with my whole heart that you will never understand._

_Take care of yourself._

_Lots of love,_

_Tracey_

 

"Oh," Stephen whispered. He felt a lump in his throat. God, this was terrible - not knowing if Tracey was still alive or not.

Beside him, Jon had calmed down a little. His breathing was still irregular and his eyes were all shades of red, but at least he wasn't crying anymore.

"What if..." Jon couldn't finish his sentence, but Stephen replied nonetheless.

"I'm sure she's okay, Jon. It'll be fine." Stephen immediately felt guilty for reassuring his friend while he wasn't even slightly sure there was any truth in his words.

"But how will I know? There... there are radioactive chemicals out there right now and-" a sob interrupted his stream of thought, and he threw his hands up in the air at a loss for words.

A deep silence clouded the space as the two men let their thoughts take over. Stephen gently ran his fingers through Jon's hair, occasionally kissing the top of his head softly. He didn't really know what to do, but Jon didn't complain so he saw no problem with it.

"I think I'm going back to bed," Jon mumbled after what seemed like hours.

"Okay." Stephen granted Jon some room and watched as his friend got up, a bit stiff from the long sit, and slowly made his way to the mattress on the other side of the cellar. The look on his face as he sank to the floor was one of agony. Even the silence felt too loud as he buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for all this deep drama you guys, happy Hanukkah


End file.
